


Things in common

by withered



Series: Who's been lovin' you good? [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Not Clint Friendly, Not Steve Friendly, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Bucky, The Soldier's violent suggestions, Winter Soldier as a Separate Personality, choking (not the sexy kind), not team Cap friendly, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: Bucky and the Winter Soldier agree on several things, all of which greatly distresses Steve.





	Things in common

**Author's Note:**

> All my fics involving the Rogues moving back into the Compound after CACW are now in a series, so yay! 
> 
> Feel free to throw prompts or scream at me on my [Tumblr](https://cheshire-cassiel.tumblr.com/)

 

The Soldier was not pleased, and Bucky was in wholehearted agreement.

It had been almost a year since his ~~desertion~~ escape from Hydra, and another three months since moving into the building of the man whose parents he murdered that Bucky (and the Soldier) finally grasped some semblance of control in their lives.

Hell, the fact that Bucky and the Soldier were even on speaking terms is a goddamn miracle, and yet, here he was, in agreement with the part of his psyche that toppled empires, killed hundreds of people; withstood mind control, cryo-freezing, and torture for almost _seventy fucking years_. Bucky never thought he’d be able to reach a point where he not only accepted that part of himself, but was also a little bit in awe that they were one and the same person, but again – here he was.

More than a weapon; more than the hand that pulls the trigger; Bucky Barnes finally felt like a person again – a person who did bad things, had bad things happen to him; who wanted to do better and was finally getting the chance to do it.

And it was all thanks to the very same man who had all the reason in the world to tell him to go fuck himself.

Instead, he gave him a home and protection; provided the retro-framing and the therapy; clothes on his back and food in his stomach, and gave him the second chance that Bucky didn’t deserve, but got anyway.

All thanks to Tony Stark, “arrogant, cocky, son of a bitch futurist who thinks a clear conscious can be bought.”

Bucky’s flesh hand almost snapped the metal armrest of the chair, but Barton didn’t seem to notice, even when the Soldier snarled.

The tirade lasted another ten minutes and when Barton finally tired himself out of the spiel, Bucky had to center himself and the Soldier to prevent from launching after the archer to put hands on him.

When Romanova rolled her eyes and added, “What do you expect, Clint? The man turned on his own team.” Bucky considered laying it on her instead, just to work out his frustrations.

 _She’d provide at least some entertainment_ , the Soldier mused. _The Widow wouldn’t beat us, but at least it wouldn’t be a boring fight._

 _No,_ Bucky reminded, _Tony doesn’t like blood in the common area._

In the back of his mind, the Soldier huffed, and Bucky resolved to ignore his other-half as he tried to compromise: _Poison? Strangulation? We take the fight outside so she can bleed in the bushes?_

Romanova spoke up during the Soldier’s very plausible recommendations, “We should leave Tony to it, Barnes” and then a subtle wink, and both Bucky and the Solider rolled their eyes so hard their brain hurt.

The Rogues, since their arrival back into the Compound, decided that they were better off without the man that gave them literally everything, though Steve was convinced that the reverse was actually true. They made it clear whenever possible to exclude Tony; from leaving the room immediately after he came in, purposely bumping into him in the hallways, and talking over him whenever he said something until such a time as when _Tony_ apologized for his behavior.

Like he was the one who dropped cars on them, destroyed a city in Germany, totaled an airport, put them in the Raft, and hid the fact that Bucky _killed his fucking parents_.

Huffing out an annoyed breath, he thought in unison with the Soldier, _Idiots_.

Romanova left not a moment later, casting Tony her coolest look and a smile that belied her actual allegiance in the Compound.

Tony, _clever, clever Tony_ , saw right through it, his expression carefully blank before turning to the kitchen.

Barton had almost thrown out the blueberries, just to spite Tony further, but Bucky had taken it for himself and the archer had no choice but to frown at Bucky from across the dining room table.

The fridge was opened and then Tony groused, “Where are my blueberries?”

Smirking now, as if Barton finally caught onto Bucky’s ploy, he declared, “Barnes wanted it” as if that automatically _made it his_. The Soldier continued to glower in the wake of the self-satisfied smirk Barton was sporting.

 _If I pressed my thumbs into his eyes, most of the blood will be on his face,_ the Soldier informed primly as if that too was a work-around Tony’s no-blood-in-the-common-areas rule.

“Now that’s just rude,” Tony declared, furrowing his brow at Bucky. “I thought you preferred plums?”

He huffed a breath out through his nose when, before he can open his mouth, Barton retorted, “He can change his mind, Stark.”

And to make matters worse, Steve choose that exact moment to come in. 

“Who can change their mind?” Wilson, one of the only few reasonable people left in the Compound and of the Rogues, asked.

“Barnes,” Barton said, nodding in his direction. “Stark over here wants to just keep everything the same – can’t even let Barnes try his stupid blueberries.”

“Now you’re just putting words I didn’t even say, in my mouth,” Tony informed, rolling his eyes and Barton waved him away as if his very presence wasn’t worth the effort of actually dismissing him – like Tony was an irritating fly.

 _I could break every finger in his hand and then his arm,_ the Soldier continued casually, _no blood there._

Wilson made a very clear _what-the-fuck_ face while Steve, the stupid punk, immediately took Barton’s side, “Tony, Bucky can have whatever he wants.”

“I never said he couldn’t,” the engineer retorted.

“Well you know,” Wilson said slowly, “you could just share.”

Barton snorted. “Please, Stark doesn’t know how to do that. What is that, like only-child-syndrome or just because you’re a selfish dick?”

“Hey,” Steve interjected, though there was a quirk at his mouth that suggested he found the comment funny, and the Soldier declared _I can kill them all while they’re sleeping, the blood will be in their bedrooms and those aren’t common areas._

“I mean,” Barton continued with an outright smirk, “you’ve been sulking for months already, get the hell over it – we’re back, Stark – and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He couldn’t – wouldn’t because Tony Stark was a far better person than everyone else in this goddamn building. But the Soldier and Bucky could.

His metal arm – the one thoughtfully designed and lovingly fabricated at the hands of his clever mechanic – had Barton’s neck in his hand in less than ten seconds.

“Bucky,” Steve shouted, “put him down!”

Tony, however, said nothing, so the hold didn’t loosen, just short of choking – though Barton was changing color anyway as he batted his hands against Bucky’s grasp futilely.

“It’s the arm,” Steve decided, turning furious eyes on Tony. “What did you do to his arm?”

“What the hell -”

“I knew it was a bad idea the second you suggested it -”

Tony glared, “I didn’t suggest it; Bucky wanted it, he can make his own choices.”

“So you put something in it to control him like some guard dog, is that it?” Steve demanded, lip curling. “I knew Bucky was acting weird – always standing just behind you like some kind of sentinel, going down to the lab all the time, actually agreeing to spending time with you. What did you do to him, Tony?”

And wasn’t that the most hilarious thing?

Bucky went from being a _thing_ to being some kind of animal, brilliant, and from the mouth of his supposed best friend to boot.

Not that Bucky was particularly concerned about those memories; nostalgia was nothing but a liar and memories could always be corrupted. What had passed was not guaranteed in the present, no matter how much Steve wished for his buddy from the war back.

And Bucky understood, he really did, but there was no excuse for the shit they were pulling right now.

The blood roaring in Bucky’s ears prevented him from actually hearing the words Wilson was saying to try to de-escalate the situation, but he moved – slamming Steve into the wall and holding him up by with his flesh and blood hand, while his other still held Barton in place.

“Still gonna blame the arm, Stevie?”

“Buck-Bucky, this isn’t you – Tony – he did something,” he managed through his partially blocked air passage.

“Tony didn’t do anything.”

“Barnes, come on,” Wilson tried to placate. “Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Bucky demanded, the undertone of the Soldier dropping his voice. “I’ve heard enough of your shit. Tony should’ve never let you guys back in, you’ve done nothing to earn or deserve it.”

Clint struggled, but managed to declare, “Like you did, you fucking -”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tony interjected with a sigh of resignation.  “Bucky, if I can’t snap their necks, neither can you; let ‘em go.”

He huffed a breath through his nose, and loosened his hold for just a second before pulling both men close once more. “Tony Stark is mine, pull any of that shit again, assholes, and I’ll let the Soldier deal with you.”

“But – Bucky, you know I –”

“No, you don’t.”

Steve’s eyes widened – and Bucky couldn’t help but snort. For all of Steve’s talking about _Bucky getting better_ and _I love you until the end of the line_ , it was never true unless the Soldier was gone, and that was something Steve had yet to understand.  _You can’t love me if you can’t love the Soldier_.

With a firm pat on the shoulder, Tony steered him out of the room.

 _You did well, James_ , the Soldier soothed, in the back of his mind as Tony took a seat beside him on the couch in the lab, their thighs flush against one another and shoulders brushing.

Quietly, Tony asked, “Are you okay?”

“They shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

“Yeah, well – you get used to it. It’s not a big deal, Buckaroo,” he said, tone placating as he squeezed his knee. Bafflingly, it was Tony that was comforting him. “I actually prefer it to the fake _we’re all friends, we’re just like a family,_ nonsense.”

“I’m your friend.”

“You are?” he asked, feigning hurt. "Do you always sleep with your friends?" 

Bucky snorted, covering Tony's hand with his own. "And for the record,” Tony added, turning his full attention to him, eyes brighter than stars. “I love you too, Bucky.”

He hummed, ignoring the warmth tingeing his ears and neck, especially when Tony rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder – vulnerable and sweet in the face of the violence that had occurred less than an hour before. Tony added, amused, “You know, I don’t even know why I went into the kitchen in the first place. I had blueberries right here.”

 


End file.
